The Prince and the Dragon
by Aima D. Duragon
Summary: The tower has just been struck by lighting, and now Severus Snape has to deal with the fallout.


**A/N:** My first time writing from Snape's POV...it was so hard!

 **Prompt:** Truth or Dare: Write about a Truth that is hatred OR write about someone being Dared to confess their hatred.

 **Optional Prompt(s):**

4\. (song) Sunrise - Our Last Night

6\. (colour) midnight black

* * *

The killing curse was never an easy thing to witness.

That was the only thought on Severus Snape's mind as he let himself into his dingy flat in the heart of Spinner's End. The smell of dust and smoke hit him like a tidal wave as he entered the foyer, filling his lungs with its viscous weight. He kicked the door shut behind him, but it did little to alleviate the stench. It was a smell that he'd always celebrated leaving in the fall and dreaded returning to in the summer. He much preferred the smells of Hogwarts, where he always had his choice between the aromas of potion ingredients or the sweet pine that southwestern winds brought from the Forbidden Forest.

Dumbledore had often tried to convince him to build a permanent residence on the school grounds—like the blundering oaf Hagrid had. Severus grimaced. He supposed that was yet another argument of Dumbledore's that he would never have to endure again.

Severus hung his cloak over the back of an old chair and rounded the corner that led into the living room. His nerves were fried—he would need to brew himself a fresh Dreamless Potion if he wanted to even stand a chance of—

"So, you're back."

The words brought Severus' feet to an abrupt stop, and he quickly schooled his features into an iron mask as his eyes honed in on the lone figure huddled against the corner of the sofa.

Draco Malfoy looked inordinately small against the dim backdrop of the room, his body swathed in the sickly yellow light that was pouring from the standing lamp at the sofa's edge. His knees were curled up against his chest and his hair looked as if it had been tousled by a rough wind. He hadn't even bothered to change clothes since they'd left Hogwarts, and Severus could see shards of glass from the windowpanes Bellatrix had broken glinting in the lamplight as they clung to Draco's robes.

Draco sneered at him, his expression cold and cruel as only a child's could be. "I'm surprised you're not out celebrating with them."

Severus tucked his arms into the folds of his robes, his spine so rigid he thought it might snap. Because he recognized the shadow just behind Draco's eyes all too well. "It's hardly a night for celebration, Mr. Malfoy."

"Isn't it?" Draco snarled.

Severus took a step forward, which Draco reacted to like a cornered cat, his muscles tense and his teeth bared. The lamplight flickered as live magic rippled through the room, and Severus' gaze flicked over to it for a calculating moment before returning to the boy. "Come to the kitchen with me," Severus said in a clipped, even tone. "I'll make us some tea."

"I don't want tea."

Severus leveled him with a crystallized glare. "I did not ask what you wanted." Hands clenching beneath the fabric of his robes, Severus swept past the sofa into the small kitchen. He didn't bother to check if Draco had gotten up to follow him. He knew that he would.

The kitchen was just as cramped and deteriorated as the rest of the flat, with floorboards that creaked loudly beneath Severus' feet. He grabbed his kettle from the stovetop and turned on the tap, allowing it to run until the water turned clear. Draco shuffled into the kitchen a few moments later and Severus jerked his chin towards the wooden breakfast table tucked into the corner of the room.

"Sit," he ordered, and heard Draco silently comply. Pursing his lips, Severus filled the kettle and lit the stove, diligently ignoring that there was a slight tremor in his hands that he couldn't seem to tame. As soon as he was done, he folded them back into his robes and took the seat across from Draco.

Draco's eyes were resolutely pinned to the table, one of his nails working at the numerous groves. His face looked pale and blurred in the muted grey air, as if he was fading in and out of existence. Severus leaned against the back of his chair, sending out thin tendrils of magic and brushing them against the boy's mind.

Misery and anguish flashed through the bridge between them before Draco slammed his mental barriers down. Grey eyes glinted like a blade's edge catching moonlight. "Don't," Draco hissed.

Beneath his stony exterior, Severus bristled. "You'll only do yourself harm if you don't talk about it."

"What's doing me harm is sitting in this disgusting flat with you. Take me home."

"You will mind your tone in my presence, Mr. Malfoy," Severus chided, a silent warning flaring through the space between them. He watched Draco recoil from it. "And I cannot take you home."

Draco studied him for a long moment. Severus knew that he wasn't used to having his orders ignored. "Why not?"

"Because the Dark Lord has decided to take up residence there." He hadn't thought it was possible, but somehow Draco's face grew even paler. "Which makes Malfoy Manor the unsafest place you could be right now."

"Unsafe? Why? He got what he wanted—" Draco paused, shaking his head and clearing his throat. There was a crack in his voice that his fear was starting to seep through. "Dumbledore's dead."

"Yes." Severus nodded coolly even as his heart gave a betraying lurch in his chest. He pushed harder against the back of his chair, the ridge of his spine creaking painfully against the wood. "But he was supposed to die by your hand, not mine. It is imperative to the Dark Lord's plan that I return to Hogwarts next year, and killing Dumbledore has made that," Severus had to chew on the word for a moment before he was able to get it out, "difficult."

Severus' words seemed to chip Draco's armor away piece by piece until it lay in shattered fragments around him. A shudder grabbed hold and gripped him tight, and Severus could see the muscles in Draco's jaw working to keep his teeth from chattering as he spoke. "So then...what—what does that mean?"

"It means that you'll be staying with me for a while," Severus answered.

Tears filmed Draco's gaze and the lamplight behind him flickered once more. "No."

Severus merely held his gaze, silent and unwavering. The killing curse was never an easy thing to witness. Especially for the first time. Especially for a child.

His own memory of it was all too vivid—standing in that thin alleyway under a midnight black sky, knowing he'd just made a choice he could never return from. Cold had seared through his veins as he'd stood at the Dark Lord's back, fresh blood still spilling over his hand from the Dark Mark he'd accepted not hours before.

The man they'd been meeting had been a nobody in the Ministry's hierarchy, but he had been a nobody who'd happened to have access to a very specific door; a door that the Dark Lord had wanted the key to. The Dark Lord had given an ultimatum and the man had refused. And the Dark Lord never asked twice.

Severus had never seen something happen so fast. The flash of green barely had time to light the muddied cobblestone before his ears had pounded with the sound of a body thudding against the ground.

Even now, Severus remembered his face clear as day: pudgy and deathly pale, with blue eyes that stared up at nothing. He remembered the moment he realized that those eyes would never move again—never see again. But most of all he remembered how hollow he'd felt, unable to muster even the barest fraction of emotion.

Back then, Severus had never bothered to wonder if the man may have had a family...may have had children.

But he'd paid the price for that.

The image of Lily's body lying on the floor of the nursery flashed across his mind's eye, sending a cold shudder down the length of his spine.

"No," Draco repeated, as if he wasn't sure he'd said the word aloud before.

Severus' attention snapped back to the present—to the boy who was breaking in ways he was intimately familiar with. "Draco...if there's something that you need to say, then I suggest you say it."

"I…" Draco's mouth opened and closed several times, his Adam's apple bobbing as he attempted to constrain the words caught in the back of his throat.

Draco jerked in his chair as a loud squeal pierced through the air. Severus swept across the small room to the stove, removing the kettle and setting out the cups and tea bags with surgical detachment. He poured the water and placed the tea bags to steep, wondering for an idle moment if he should slip some Veritaserum into Draco's portion. The phial he always kept tucked in his breast pocket reminded him of its presence as he rolled his shoulders in silent contemplation. He allowed himself to entertain the temptation for a prolonged breath before banishing it from his mind. Forcing Draco's truth to pass through unwilling lips wouldn't help. Not with this.

Severus turned and placed one cup on the table in front of Draco, and kept the other for himself. He saw Draco eye it warily and Severus couldn't help but smirk. The boy was a Slytherin through and through.

"There isn't anything in it," Severus said. "I'll drink from both to prove it to you, if you'd like."

Grey eyes glared at him. "Considering that you're a Potion's Master and a former Slytherin, you can't possibly expect me to believe that you wouldn't have kept an antidote for yourself."

Severus chewed on an unexpected surge of pride before swallowing it down, his face remaining unchanged. "I see."

With a practiced air of defiance, Draco took the tea bag string between his thumb and forefinger and toyed with the weight of it. Every inch of him looked as cold and smooth as porcelain. But Severus knew well enough how easily porcelain broke.

"Draco…" Severus watched Draco flinch at the sound of his name.

Draco's lips pursed, but not tightly enough. Severus still caught the quivering in his chin.

"My patience with you will not endure long."

"I'm not talking about it!" Draco hissed, barely managing to mask the quavering in his voice.

Severus stared at him and took a long sip from his tea. It was scaldingly hot and unpalatably bitter. Lily had always been the one who picked out his teas. "I'm not giving you a choice."

The first real spark of fear flashed across Draco's gaze.

"Either I'll pry it out of you, or the Dark Lord will," Severus continued. "And I can guarantee you that one of those options will be much less pleasant than the other."

A chink in Draco's porcelain veneer cracked, and Severus watched as the crack webbed out into his limbs in the form of a shiver. Draco's hand left the tea bag string and retreated under the table, but not before Severus saw the tremble in it.

"Say it," Severus said, pressing even harder into the crack.

"Professor…"

"Say it, Draco."

Draco shook his head, his expression growing grim as he realized how quickly his resolve was unraveling around him. He was shaking in earnest now, as if the words were boiling just under his skin.

"Say. It." Severus said the words so forcefully that he couldn't help the magic that escaped through them. He watched Draco's eyes come alive as he felt it seep into him, and the lamp behind him shuddered and cracked as the lightbulb burst. Darkness fell over the room like a blanket, encasing them in hues of the deepest blue.

Draco's chair screeched as he rocketed to his feet, his own magic flaring out into the room like a storm. "I hate you," he snarled.

Relief flooded through Severus so intensely his vision blurred.

"I hate you!" Draco repeated, louder this time, tears welling in his eyes and spilling over his cheeks.

Severus held himself perfectly still, acutely aware of how fragile Draco had allowed himself to become by releasing so much magic at once. He needed to let Draco rebuild those barriers himself. The only thing that Severus could do was attempt to show him how—to make sure that Draco would never end up where he was sitting now. Maybe if he could do this one thing right—maybe if he could save this boy—he could go to his grave knowing he'd made a difference. Maybe then Lily would find it in her heart to forgive him.

"Why do you hate me, Draco?" Severus asked softly.

"I hate you because…because…" Fresh tears streamed down Draco's cheeks and he scrubbed them away with the back of his sleeve. "Because you killed him…"

A muscle in Severus' jaw tightened.

"And he was the only one left who could've…"

Severus could only nod. He didn't blame Draco for not speaking the words aloud. Words had become so dangerous these days.

"I hate you," Draco whispered, his head bowing as he fell back into the chair and lost himself in his anguish.

Severus merely watched, each breath becoming easier as he felt Draco's magic retreat back into his body to start rebuilding the things that had shattered inside of him. A soft pink light began to fill the room as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. It seemed to bloom across Draco's back, enveloping him in its warmth.

"There's still hope," Severus said after some time.

Draco's head lifted, and something fragile seemed to spark just beneath his gaze. "What did you say?"

Severus inclined his head. "As long as Mr. Potter remains alive, the outcome of our world will remain undecided. Dumbledore knew that and so do I. So do you. It's pertinent that you remember that. War has a way of drawing you in and never letting go, and I would find it an incredible shame if a young man as clever and resourceful as yourself allowed that to happen."

An understanding that Severus hadn't dared to hope for blossomed across Draco's features, as pure and iridescent as the sunrise. He nodded slowly and readjusted himself in his chair. He stared down at his tea for a long moment before finally reaching out and taking a long sip. A tired sigh escaped his lips as he returned his cup to the table. "We're both alone in this, aren't we, Professor."

Severus rubbed a hand against his wrist where the marks of his vow still marred his skin. "One of us is."


End file.
